Chris Wallen isn't one to run away from a problem. He's running for it.

His 10-year-old daughter, Grace, has Prader-Willi syndrome, and there's no treatment or cure for the condition of chronic hunger that, coupled with a low metabolism, can lead to life-threatening obesity and affects about one in 15,000.

The 40-year-old Wallen is doing something, though, committing himself to running 52 half-marathons this year to raise money and awareness for the condition.

Week after week he puts on one of the "Grace for the Cause" shirts he had made, treks off to some point in Northern California, and trudges across 13.1 miles. He hands out pamphlets, gives away shirts and when he crosses the finish line has the announcer tell the crowd who he is and why he's run the race.

He always finishes at the back of the pack. He was dead last in his first run, held New Year's Day in Castro Valley. Took him 3 1/2 hours. He's now down to about three hours, and has found a camaraderie with the other back-of-the-pack runners. When he feels like walking, he does.

He did a little CrossFit training as he prepared for his half-marathon debut, and now squeezes in runs with his wife, Rowena, a long-time runner, in between the weekend events.

"It's something I can do with my wife," Wallen said. "When you have a special-needs child, that time together is very important."

There's precious little of it, with both of them working long night shifts at their respective hospitals and sharing duties at home taking care of Grace and two high school-age sons who enjoy baseball. And girls. Rowena's son, Sam, will graduate from Fresno State this month. While in town for the ceremony, Wallen will run another half-marathon.

Sometimes he misses a week, so he has to make up for it with two in one weekend, which is particularly challenging.

He's no athlete. To hear him tell it, he's no runner. At Oakdale High School he played football and was on the track team. Wrapped up in being a father to four kids, he wasn't one to exercise. Then came the diagnosis a year and a half ago that changed his life.

From the time Grace entered kindergarten, teachers suggested there was a problem. She didn't pay attention. She didn't follow directions. In first grade the problems persisted.

"Since my wife and I work in health care, we weren't just going to take the simple answer of (attention deficit disorder or attention deficit hyperactivity disorder)," Wallen said. "We kept fighting and fighting for an answer and they finally did the genetic testing and found out she had Prader-Willi syndrome."

The diagnosis sent him to the Internet to find out information.

"We went through the whole gamut of denial and asking what did we do wrong to cause this," Wallen said.

There was nothing they could have done to prevent it, nothing they could do to cure it.

He discovered that Pittsburgh Pirates manager Clint Hurdle has a daughter, close to Grace's age, with the same condition. Hurdle is a national spokesman for the syndrome, the foundation of which is based in Pittsburgh. Upon learning of Hurdle's connection, Wallen emailed him through the Pirates organization.

To his surprise, Hurdle called him.

"It was a shock," Wallen said. "I talked to him about running, and he put me in contact with the fundraising department at the Prader-Willi foundation. It was just two guys, dad-to-dad, talking. We talked about our kids, how it affects the family. I asked what he does to keep his family sane and together."

Wallen's own teenage sons avoid their younger sister, who is easily irritated and prone to temper tantrums.

Hurdle counseled him to be patient and sent a book written for siblings of syndrome victims.

"You feel like you're on an island by yourself," Wallen said. "After talking to him, it's like the weight of the world is taken off your shoulders. There's someone else out there. He's been dealing with it for far more years than we have."

Armed with a sense of support, Wallen embarked on his running plan. He took a couple of weekends off last month, including one so he could take his family to a San Francisco Giants game. The opponent: the Pittsburgh Pirates.

Wallen and Hurdle met face-to-face.

"It was like being on a first date," Wallen said. "I was nervous."

He'd contacted the manager before the game and asked if Hurdle could donate an autographed baseball bat to the cause. He complied, and a friend of Wallen's donated $1,000 to Grace for a Cause for it. To date, Wallen has raised about $2,000, which is "nowhere near my goal of $15,000."

"Even if don't reach it, whatever I raise will be good," he said. "Raising awareness is probably more important than raising money."

He's also made a connection with Hurdle. He arranged for Grace and Hurdle's daughter, Madison, to be pen pals. Grace picked out one of her daddy's medals, one with an octopus on it, for Madison to have.

The half-marathons, inspired by a friend of his wife's who ran 62 marathons in one year to benefit autism, are a coping mechanism.

"It helps with the pain," Wallen said. "I know she's going through more pain every day than I could go through running one of these. Then, when I get tired of running, I stop and think there are so many people out there that have it so much worse than me. "

The enterprise is a financial commitment, with entry fees ranging from $40 to more than $100 dollars plus gas, food and occasional hotel bills added on. It's a time commitment. It's a physical challenge.

Still, Wallen runs. He picks up a T-shirt at every stop, and when he's done, he's planning to have them made into a quilt.

When she's older, Grace will have a better understanding of what her dad did for her. And know just how much he loves her.